Run it up to the head of the flagpost,
Swing it out where the four winds are met,
For the great God who fashioned its birthing
Shall waft it to victory yet.
Ho! steady it there so the nations,
May gaze on its rainbow fold,
The flag of the Irish Republic,
The Green, and the White, and the Gold.

'Twas woven from threads of the glory
Of the Souls that were soldiers from birth,
'Twas lifted by heroes whose story,
Shall challenge the verdicts of earth.
'Twas shot through, and through, with the lightnings
Of God's hieroglyphics unrolled,
But once in an age to his people,
Was the Green, and the White, and the Gold.

Run it up to the head of the fIagpost,
Let it fling out the words far away;
Of women who shouldered their rifles,
Of the boys who were men in a day.
Of dreams that were fashioned to bullets,
Of loves that were dearer than breath,
Of deeds, that did never know slighting,
Nor failure, dishonour, nor death.

Fling it up, with our heart's blood to back it,
The flag that was sacred to them.
Those noble Sinn Feiners of Eire,
Those boys who were true, root and stem.
With the banners of conquering Finn,
Whose story in epic is told,
Show the flag of the Irish Republic,
The Green, and the White and the Gold.

Behold it! ye exiles, whose faces,
Are wet with the tears you have shed !
'Tis the flag of your country triumphant,
Redeemed in the blood of her dead.
'Tis the seal of her mission, outleaping,
In liberties yet to be told;
The flag of the Irish Republic,
The Green, and the White, and the Gold.

Run it up to the head of the flagpost,
Swing it out to the winds of the world,
The flag of the Irish Republic,
That never again shall be furled.
That never shall waver or falter,
Till we fling out its rainbow fold,
On the summit of heaven's sky altar,
Of the Green, and the White, and the Gold.